"Why would you say that?" He'd raised his brow, teeth clucked between tongue he smoothed back oiled locks and in response, his confidence rose. "I didn't know you were those types." He spat out the word, and rolled it on his tongue. Disdain colouring his cheeks a ruddy red, blotchy it spread across his neck highlighting a double chin. "Always arguing about equality, about justice—"
He spun on his heels, turned to face her with a squint and the rise of a cocky brow.
"It's so fucking stupid for a company to hire a worker that will eventually require maternity leave." He snorted at his own words; air sang through his teeth followed by a cluck at the back of his throat. "It doesn't make sense in terms of productivity, the economic returns just," he shrugged, making a face, "does not make goddamn sense. Even if you don't intend to get pregnant." The gloat revealed itself, the sneer that followed was retch worthy. "But can you?"
"Excuse me?" she'd whispered.
"Can you even get pregnant?" he smiled, triumph in his eyes. "But that isn't the real problem, is it?" His lips twitched. "You don't even have a man." It was a stab to her guts, words that brought down her status as a female and her worth as one.
Her teeth snapped, and hatred reared its ugly head within her soul. But she calmed herself down and allowed her mind to form words before her heart could react so that she wouldn't burst apart. She was cool when she began to speak, fists clenched as she prayed for strength.
"What doesn't make sense is why you had to resort to this," she told him, as calmly as she could manage, "at the very least we could have been partners. I would have given you some of the credit, you know that—"
"You know why."
He loomed over her, approached her tall and heavy; close and controlling. His breath was hot and heavy as it fanned over her face, tart from the apples. Her heart pounded as his hands shook and his lips spread, eyes growing lidded as he prowled closer searching for more.
There was something in his stance that made them both know that if he continued arms would swing, bruises would form, and tears could flow. It was a towering pose that signified stereotypical danger. And he used it to his advantage, forcing her back against the wall when she didn't want him closer.
She flinched when her back stuttered against the glass, and he smiled. A winning leer that had her fighting for the last laugh. If she was going to lose today, at the very least she wanted some sense of victory. At the very least she wanted to wipe that smirk off his face.
"Because I said no to your advances?" She feigned strength with a smooth laugh. How childish could he be? How much more did he want to take from her? "You must be joking, you're married."
The last bit came out rushed and pinched; it was information that she'd only realised later at a dinner party. It was knowledge that made her hate him more.
He had a loving wife, his destined soulmate, and two children— little girls that he should cherish. He was an asshole that could cheat on the other half of his soul; a bastard that tried to get into her panties despite the ink of his soulmate's name on his shoulder. A soul mark that she wanted more than anything in the entire world.
Monster.
"Clearly..." His cheeks pinked; brows knotted in infuriated response. "We don't like each other." He tapped his finger on the wood, eyes sharpened into slits, lips curled into a smile despite the jab at his moral value. The realisation flooded her mind far too late.
She opened her mouth. "You can't be serious—"
"You're fired."
Fucking hell, that son of a bitch. "You have no right!"
"Oh, I do. I'm your supervisor now, technically your boss." His smirk was nauseating, the glee that revelled upon her suffering was a sword to her heart. "You know how the higher ups are like..." He twiddled his fingers as if trying to find the right words, "they don't trust women, do they?" His lips curled into a sneer. "You'll be one less problem for them to deal with."
"Y-you can't—" the words caught in her throat; air lost from her lungs because he was right.
None of her bosses believed anything that she said. None of them trusted her, none of them wanted her here.
Their sole goal in life was to refute her, to tell her that she was wrong when she was right, to insist that she was always the idiot just because of her biology. Fuck her degree, fuck her PhD, she was just another pussy to them all.
She'd tell them anything: solutions, problems, hell, the office could be on fire. But her bosses would turn to the nearest male just to clarify what she had just said. Then with blatant sexism, they would only accept answers, and solutions from the one with a penis. Even if those answers were exactly what she'd just said just minutes before.
It was infuriating. It was degrading. They were fucking disgusting. These were people that only saw her as tits on legs. It was the way of their world, and the older she got the more they seemed to hate her.
Why aren't you married? Had been the beginning of their abhorrence for her existence. Where's your husband? Then the questions had followed. You're still working at this age? Where are your children? Why aren't you raising them? They'd sneered. You want to pursue a career first? Are you out of your bloody mind?
Pity would flow in mocking tones and hushed sad little whimpers when those threats didn't work.
There must be something wrong with your reproductive health. Their eyes would roam her skin, her face, her chest. You're pretty enough. What will your parents say? She had told them that her parents were dead. Such a shame that you don't have a family to teach you what's right.
It's too bad you're all alone.
"I invented Float! It's abilities, it's uses are all my life's work." She'd snarled, hysteria clawed at her, and she felt nauseous. "I spent years! It's everything to me, you can't just steal it away from me like this!" Her breath escaped her in pants, her eyes blurred with anxiety; the tears soaked her vision. The room felt too warm now, too sticky.
It was as if he anticipated her outburst, expected her reaction, for he remained quiet, cold, and calculative as he watched her. He ran his tongue over his teeth and then slid out a cigarette from a thin silver box in his jacket. He twirled the lighter with thick fingers, nonchalant as he blew out the first ring of thick smoke that unfurled into a thread that spooled skywards.
The cigarette was a prop, a rude device that indicated that he did not give a fuck about her situation. He did not give a damn about what she said. She might as well have been telling him about the weather, the menu of the day. It pissed her off.
He turned to look at her then, lips smacking as he flicked the cigarette to the floor; the ashes spiralled, staining the carpet. Her eyes danced downwards, and her mind told her that the one who would clean it later was a single mother working to feed three. She would kneel and scrub at his feet, as he complained about how long she took to get the stain out.
It was a man's world. And they didn't need her here now that Float was nearing its completion.
"You don't know the system like I do," she whispered, her last weakly tossed threat. "You need me for it to work properly."
He smiled; lips stretched so wide he almost seemed insane. He waited for a second or two, inhaling and exhaling the grey fumes that stung her throat and burned in her lungs. He allowed the rage to boil and froth within her until there was nothing left to burn as she steadily lost her fight.
Defeat.
"Do I?"
Her mouth opened and closed, voiceless she felt weak.
"There's an event coming up, awards for our technological advancements. Maybe I'll let you come." His eyes moved up and down her body. His voice dipped an octave, curled around her with a groan. "If you please me enough."
His tongue darted out, slimy and wet as it slobbered at thin lips, hands moved to adjust his crotch. She noted now with growing disgust that he was aroused from their exchange. That the entire power play was like porn to his sick twisted mind. It was all just a game, a calculated exchange for him to get what he wanted.
Her.
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